


Can They Keep It

by megyal



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Angst, Cheating, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-04-19
Updated: 2008-04-19
Packaged: 2017-10-28 10:44:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/307042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/megyal/pseuds/megyal





	Can They Keep It

Patrick was the last one he told, mainly because Patrick was the dangerous one.

"Ok," was all Andy had said, his voice faint over the distance. "Congratulations. Good luck and all that shit."

"What?!" was Joe's response, disbelieving and amused. "You actually _asked_ her? She actually said yes?"

"She actually said yes," Pete had confirmed and bit his lip. He had the strange sensation of wanting to laugh and hurl at the same time. "Yeah, man. She said yes."

Fending off rapid questions about dates and locations, Pete hung up and stared at the phone for a long time, before scrolling in search of Patrick's number. Travis had wandered into the kitchen searching for something to eat, followed by a hopeful Hemmy, when Pete decided that a phone call wouldn't do the trick. So he sent a text instead.

 _got something to tell u com over_

Patrick took fifteen minutes to respond.

 _kinda busy, talk to u later_

Pete's second message was super-quick ( _rly important news_ ), and Patrick's response ( _fine gimme one fuckin hour, shit_ ) had him finding some way for him to get Travie out of the house. There was probably going to be a big show-down, tumbleweed blowing through the living room at high noon; after a lot of prodding, Travis agreed to take Hemmy out.

"This is what my life has boiled down to," Travis complained as he snapped the leash onto Hemmy's collar. "Me and this dog on a date."

Hemmy whined.

"Hey, you're a good dog, baby, you're a good dog," Travis soothed hurriedly and stood up straight, giving Pete a level look. Pete tried to give off Everything-Is-Cool vibes.

"You gonna be ok?" Travis asked softly and Pete fixed his face into incredulous scorn.

"What? Yeah, yeah, I'm gonna be fine. Dude, it's just Patrick."

For some reason, the doubt did not leave Travis' face and Pete cursed all the therapy he'd been undergoing. Travis, who was sharp enough even when he was drugged up to his eyeballs, had gained some sort of preternatural sixth sense when it came to Pete. He stared at Pete for another long moment, then shrugged.

"If you say so. Come on, boy! Come on, Hems." Travis urged the dog out and with one final look back, closed the front door slowly. Pete listened for the roar of the car-engine and went upstairs.

* * *

"Pete, this better be--" Patrick's voice floated through his open bedroom door and then cut off. Pete turned his head in that direction, and waited. He couldn't see a thing. He could, however, feel the air conditioning brush chilly fingers against his bare body.

He had tied a scarf around his eyes, his Gryffindor scarf that he had bought in London, but he had decided against any cuffs. Instead, he had waited for Patrick's step to sound on the staircase before lying back on the bed and grasping the bed-head with both hands, stretching and arching.

The silence uncoiled around them and then he heard rustling, before the bed dipped a little. He felt fingers touch gently at his wrist, trickling down to his elbow and traveling past his armpit, lightly down his side and ending at his hip. The fingers made a return journey, explorers checking their path before doing it once more, mapping his tattoos. Pete moaned softly as lips and tongue joined in, making their own stops at his nipples and navel. His cock twitched in anticipation as soft breath stroked over it and he sighed as his legs were raised and the backs of his knees were licked with a sort of considering joy.

"Patrick," he sighed and there was more movement as he felt weight spread over him and an insistent mouth claim his. He parted his lips and licked the wicked tongue that slipped in.

Patrick hummed into his mouth and broke the kiss to suck at the junction of Pete's neck and shoulder. This was a particularly sensitive spot, and Pete found himself trying to melt into the bed and arch up against Patrick simultaneously. He could feel Patrick's shirt brushing against his stomach, he still had it on even though Pete couldn't see him, but Patrick's cock was a naked hard warmth against his as they rocked against each other. He'd taken off his jeans and boxers really quickly.

"You should see yourself," Patrick muttered into his ear, and stuck his tongue in abruptly. Another sweet spot; Pete shuddered helplessly. "I want to fuck you 'til you scream."

"Do it," Pete panted. "Yeah, come on. Do it."

Patrick chuckled against his neck, warm and compellingly sweet. Pete felt him move away and his legs were pushed up and apart.

"Oh," Patrick breathed, voice dark and eager. His finger was stroking curiously at Pete's already prepared hole. "Oh, you couldn't _wait_ for it, could you?"

"No, I couldn't wait at all. You took too long to get here." Pete bit his lip, renewing his grip on the bed-head as Patrick took a moment with one of the condoms he had placed on the night-table. He groaned as a thick cock was pushed into him, slow and burning. " _Yes_ ," he hissed, raising his legs and wrapping them around Patrick's hips, pulling him in deeper, faster. "God, like that."

"Tight," Patrick observed in a low voice and pressed a damp mouth to his cheek. "Fuck, Pete."

"Yeah, anytime now." Pete smiled tightly as Patrick laughed out loud, sliding out a little and in again. One of his hands was tugged away from over his head and guided down between them.

"Let me see you," Patrick told him hoarsely. "You know how I like it."

Pete did; he wrapped his hand around himself, feeling the shift as Patrick pulled back a little to watch him. He didn't think it was possible to get any harder than he was now, but the thought of Patrick's eyes fixed on his hand seemed to push him even further. One of Patrick's hands was clutching one of his ankles, the calloused palm rasping over the skin. Patrick was saying _something_ , harsh words that cascaded over him as he writhed under the relentless thrusting.

"Oh, fuck," Pete moaned and tightened his hand around his cock, hoping to stop himself from coming, but Patrick pulled his hand away, and then he was tensing, squeezing around the cock inside him, his body locking up even as his own come splashed warmly on his stomach. He must have really screamed out, he really didn't know; maybe he did, for Patrick's groaning as he came was punctuated with breathless, triumphant laughter.

"Well. Wow." The sensation of Patrick slipping out of him made him groan and Patrick kissed him on the knee before the snapping sound of condom-tying reached his ear. Pete remained boneless on his back, blinking open his eyes as the scarf was pulled from over his eyes. He stared up; Patrick was hovering over him, a small smile playing around that red, full mouth, eyes bright and clear. "Was _that_ what you wanted to tell me?"

"Uh, no." Pete got up, wincing a little at the ache in his back and ass. Getting too old for this.

Patrick's expression continued to be indulgent even as he handed Pete a shirt and watched him crawl out of bed to get to the bathroom. "You call me all the way over here, to tell me something and distract me with sex. Huh. Must be something either very big or super-upsetting," he mused as Pete grabbed the used condom from where Patrick had flung it and escaped to the bathroom. "Is it something serious?" he called as Pete pushed the door in a little.

"Yeah, kinda."

"Dude." Patrick appeared at the door and peered in. His boxers were back on and Pete wanted to laugh at the fact that someone who could fuck like Patrick would be so modest. There was a frown forming between Patrick's eyebrows. "Come on, tell me. What is it?"

"I asked Ashlee to marry me." Pete immediately took a piss, fully expecting Patrick to burst in and start whaling on him as soon as he shook off. He actually felt resigned to it and prepared himself for the first blow. He wouldn't blame Patrick if he did, but he was on the defensive anyway. To his surprise, he flushed the toilet, put the seat back down and washed his hands without any yelling intrusion. Patrick was fully dressed again and sitting on his bed when he returned.

Patrick's face was pale, but his eyes were burning. "She said yes?"

"Yeah."

"And this is what you want."

"This is what I want."

"You asshole," Patrick said almost conversationally, but a flush was creeping onto his race. "You piece of shit. What was that, some sort of goodbye fuck?"

Pete kept his mouth shut, watching Patrick's nostrils flare as he stood up, advancing on Pete. It was only when he felt the handle of the door press into his back that he realized that he had been retreating in the face of Patrick's growing wrath. Patrick pressed right up against him, forcing a leg in between his thighs, grasping him around his shoulders before tugging on Pete's hair and pulling him in for a harsh kiss. Pete tried to resist, but he couldn't; five seconds or so of that particular assault, and he was moaning into Patrick's mouth, shocked to find himself getting aroused again.

"I know what you're trying to do," Patrick murmured in his ear and licked the lobe delicately. "Don't think I don't know."

"Fuck you," Pete said hoarsely and Patrick pinched one of his nipples almost cruelly. Pete's hips ground against his on their own accord.

"I _have_ you," Patrick told him. "I have you tuned to me so bad, and it's fucking with your head, you hate it and you love it. And you, being a fucking _idiot_ , you want to get away. This is the best you can do?"

Pete felt a kind of helpless rage boil up in him; he tried to curl his lip and jeer, but Patrick ran his tongue over Pete's mouth, licked his neck and Pete trembled. Patrick stepped away abruptly, and the both of them stood staring at each other, breathing hard. Pete cast about in his mind for some riposte, any quick verbal jab to keep himself from tackling Patrick and going at it on the floor.

"Yeah, yeah. Or maybe I actually love her, ever think about that?" He said with a sardonic tilt of his head. He could actually see the moment when Patrick's tenuous hold over his temper just _snapped_ and Patrick lunged at him. They ended up on the floor, and Patrick bit and punched and kissed him, the both of them fighting as hard as they could until Pete finally managed to roll them over and pin him down, straddling him over the stomach.

"You don't _have_ me," he spat and Patrick went still underneath him, gazing up with large, hurt eyes, his lashes long and pale. Pete closed his own, unable to continue his assertion of _you don't have me, you don't have me_ ; because having Patrick look at him like that was like a knife to the fucking gut. He chanced opening his eyes again and looked down; Patrick's expression had gone from that of a hurt kitten to a knowing cheetah.

"Keep telling yourself that," Patrick said softly and pushed at his chest. Pete backed off slowly, and they both rose like wary soldiers. "You're fucked up," he told Pete, who twisted his mouth and shook his head.

"Tell me something I don't know."

"Well, you already know that you _don't know_ what you want," Patrick said. He stepped away, reaching for the bedroom door. "You don't know what you want, dude, and how much you need it."

"Maybe. But I'll send you an invitation." Pete watched Patrick's face, but it had gained that cool mask that Patrick was good at pulling on nowadays. Patrick gave him a slow nod.

"Sure, Pete." Patrick's sudden smile was strangely bright and Pete felt as if he had been recaptured. Or maybe, he hadn't gotten away at all. "Congrats. Send Ashlee my best."

He was out the door before Pete could say anything and Pete turned and stumbled to bed, crawling under the sheets. Travis found him curled around a large pillow, staring at an over-stuffed bookshelf.

"You good?" Travis asked from the doorway, preventing Hemmy from charging in.

"Yeah, man," Pete lied, and closed his eyes tightly when the door shut again.


End file.
